


The Blue Rose's Embrace

by Blue_Immortal_2183



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Comatose state, F/F, Romance, bondmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:38:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Immortal_2183/pseuds/Blue_Immortal_2183
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war has been won, and the Reapers have been dealt with. Yet Commander Shepard remains in a comatose state, her injuries grave and her future uncertain. Liara T'Soni watches over her recovery, clinging desperately to the hope that her lover will awaken. But the two possess a unique bond, one which may just hold the key to Shepard's return.<br/>Set immediately following the events of Mass Effect 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Rose's Embrace

As Liara T'Soni observed the motionless, wounded body of Commander Shepard before her, still alive but unconscious, tears silently slid down her cheeks with unrepentant terror. It had only been two days since they had managed to find Shepard trapped in the ruins of the Crucible, and the rescue had largely been due to Liara's keen telepathic bond with the commander.

The asari Shadow Broker had already begun to totally break down only a few minutes after hearing that Shepard had been declared missing-in-action, and, in a desperate attempt to make sure her lover and bondmate was still alive, she had tried to establish a telepathic connection. To her profuse astonishment, she succeeded, but her joy became panic as she realized all-too-soon how faint and fleeting the bond was. Without delay, she had alerted Admiral Hackett to the problem. Still reeling from the implications of Shepard's victory over the Reapers, the admiral had promptly mobilized an excavation party specifically for the task. The race against time had taken a full three hours of ceaseless, tense searching – but after an arduous hunt, they had finally found her. Life-signs fading, the commander was sent instantly to the nearest available hospital.

And here the two were now, the conscious one among them crafting a passionate poem of tears and memories to the abiding beat of a slow-sounding electrocardiogram.

Nothing had distracted Liara's fixated gaze for the entire day. She alone had been granted the luxury of staying overnight – a highly unusual measure deemed allowable considering the equally-unusual circumstances – and she had not hesitated to seize this opportunity. Only the biological need for sleep had proved a sound-enough imperative to dissuade her attention from the endangered veteran on the hospital bed in front of her.

After near-constant worry and stress, Liara now felt rather nauseous, also currently suffering from an intense headache. Her eyes had become slightly bluish – the asari equivalent of bloodshot in humans – from the sheer volume of tears they had pushed forth. Liara, however, had remained entirely silent during this time; she knew she had no right whatsoever to complain about _anything_ when the woman she loved was fighting for her life before her very eyes.

Yet finally, Liara broke her silence.

“Shepard,” Liara spoke, her voice weak and unstable from a combination of recent disuse and intense sadness, “I meant what I said. _I'm yours._ No one else's. You can't leave me. Not yet.”

There was no response, though in all truth, Liara hadn't honestly expected one.

“By the goddess, Shepard!” Liara continued, her voice imploring, “I _know_ you can get through this! Remember when, after Cerberus had brought you back, you told me you had simply 'gotten better'? I _know_ you, Shepard. You can do this. Don't leave me alone!”

Again, there was no response, save for the cold, exacting reminder of the meter, constantly churning out a slow-but-steady _beep_ that sounded as much like a death knell as a prayer.

Liara was certain she was about to collapse into another crying fit; but just then, the meter started to hasten its toll. It was a very slight increase in frequency, almost imperceptible to the ear; but Liara picked up on it almost immediately, likely due to her having listened to its heretofore constant rhythm for the last two days. It only took a few seconds for Liara to figure out what had caused this sudden flash of hope to emerge from the depths of sorrow.

“Shepard!” Liara continued, eager to make the most of this opportunity, “Shepard, listen to me! Listen to my voice! I'm here, just like I said I would be! I'm right here beside you!”

The toll began to quicken further, and so did Liara's own heartbeat. The tingling rush of excitement swept her body, her adrenaline wiping out any hints of fatigue that had previously plagued her person. She continued:

“Shepard, you're almost there! You can do it! Think of me! Think of everybody! Think of Garrus! Wrex! Kaidan! Vega! Cortez! Traynor!”

Shepard's heartbeat began to quicken still, until it was practically at a normal pace. Eager in her attempts to revive Shepard to full consciousness, Liara pressed on: “That's it! Think of them! Think of Tali!”

It continued still, and Liara could have sworn she heard rustling upon the bedsheets on which Shepard was laying.

“And Joker!”

For a moment, the heartbeat continued, but all at once, to Liara's horror, the heartbeat began to slow again. It continued, and the promising sounds of conscious activity ended altogether.

“No... _No! Shepard, what did I say?_ ” Liara asked, panicking.

The heartbeat continued its downward spiral, and all Liara could do was watch speechlessly, gawking incredulously at the fragility of the situation.

“ _Shepard! Please! What's wrong? Don't do this!_ ” Liara wailed, her tears coming back in full force.

To her incalculable relief, the heartbeat didn't expire. But it decelerated back to where it had been only a few minutes previously, and Liara couldn't help but fall back into the chair she had leapt up from in excitement only a handful of seconds ago. She stared in disbelief at Shepard, completely oblivious as to why that particular name had sent her back into a comatose state.

 

* * *

 

In her mind, Shepard had been listening to every word that Liara had said. She imagined herself on the communications deck of the Normandy, everyone assembled and speaking amongst eachother. With every one of her treasured friends she saw, Shepard felt more and more self-assured. If she had been conscious enough to crack jokes, she would likely have said she was _dying_ to see them all again.

Yet as she heard Liara say that last name, something twigged in her memory – something she didn't wish to remember, yet couldn't escape from. Shepard continued her unconscious tour through her ship, arriving at the door to the pilot's den. But as she opened the door, she found it led instead to the Crucible, that infernal crossroads where Shepard had been driven to make the most difficult choice of her life up to that point.

She found herself mulling over that choice all over again, and felt herself descend ever-so-slowly into a pit of her own despair. She knew she didn't want to control the Reapers – functionally, there was no real merit to the choice. It was the Illusive Man's hunger for power which had led him to pursue that option, and Shepard thankfully had no such drive. It was, instead, the other two possibilities which had torn her apart, and were again doing so right now.

Could she really rob the galaxy of the greatest technological epiphany it could conceivably undertake? One that would speed up all species' evolution by several million years? Conversely, could she honestly end the Reapers' cycle just by negating its very purpose? Was that enough on its own? She felt ready at first to jump into the ominous ray which beckoned to her... yet the other choice called to her as well, shrouding her in uncertainty.

 _Don't you want to see your friends again?_ The right side of the chamber seemed to say. _What would Liara think of your decision? How could she live without you?_

Liara was a very strong-willed woman, and Shepard was sure of this. It was entirely likely that, if Shepard _did_ choose to synthesize synthetic and organic life, the asari would understand Shepard's reasoning, and would, in time, heal and move on with her life. And what a life it would be! Shepard's original objective would be swept aside; but did that truly matter when such inestimably-grandiose returns were at stake?

But still, the demons within her – her selfish attachments – clawed at her without mercy. If she chose to synthesize, she would never be re-united with her friends. She would, moreover, never see Liara again. While she had no idea as to whether or not she would survive the other option, she at least had a chance of doing so. At least she wasn't likely to be broken down at the molecular level.

But while Shepard and Liara would be happy, could she honestly play the thief and steal Joker's greatest chance for happiness from him? And what of the geth that she had tried so hard to save? They, too, would be rendered nonfunctional – quite-possibly permanently, especially considering how hostile the anti-geth factions within the quarian government were likely to be towards the prospect of re-creating them from scratch.

She squirmed with the implications of either choice, but in the end, this was all a mere façade. There was no escaping it. Shepard knew what she needed to do – in all honesty, really just what she _wanted_ to do – and she, as always, set her choice in motion.

She dragged her wounded body to the right side of the chamber. She thought of all the people she would be betraying by doing this: she would be betraying the Alliance and the Council, and all their expectations of her to do the right thing; she would be betraying EDI's trust in her, as well as the right of the geth to live freely and peacefully; she would be betraying, perhaps without their knowledge, the entire populace of the galaxy, depriving them of a future far, far greater than they could ever possibly know.

But then, with crushing doubt and guilt, Shepard closed her eyes and thought of that one, special, irreplaceable woman.

The commander raised her pistol in front of her, saying, “I'm sorry, everyone.”

She fired several shots into the object before her, and a chain of explosions followed.

Everything went black.

 

* * *

 

By about a half-hour after the incident in Shepard's hospital room, Liara had been convinced by Garrus to sit down and eat in the nearby cafeteria. He had made a good point; Shepard's injuries were by far the most extensive among the crew of the Normandy, but Liara and Garrus had also been wounded in the push to the Crucible. They, too, required a period of recovery.

“I just don't know what I did wrong, Garrus,” Liara spoke, her voice quivering as she stared sorrowfully to her side. “One moment she was almost with me – I swear I saw her _move!_ And then, as soon as I mentioned Joker, she slipped away from me again.”

Garrus merely stared at Liara with sympathy, but the asari didn't notice – she was too focused on what had transpired earlier.

“What if it's always like this, Garrus?” Liara asked, turning her head to face the turian with an expression of worried fear. “What if she stays this way for... _for_...”

Liara hesitated as she tried to pronounce the last two syllables of that terrifying word, and she felt her voice catch in her throat. She raised a hand to her mouth and bowed her head slightly as another wave of tears, accompanied by agonized sobbing, overtook her. Her entire body shuddered with every new tear cried, and this prompted Garrus to reach out and touch her other hand, still on the table.

“Hey,” the sharpshooter began, “It'll be alright...”

“How do you know that, Garrus?” Liara replied, barely able to see the turian in front of her due to the tearwater obscuring her vision. “ _How do you know?_ ”

With a deeply sympathetic expression, Garrus soothed, “I don't. But I _do_ know Shepard. There's no way she'd let a little thing like getting buried under six feet of space rubble kill her.”

In any other circumstance, these words would have likely helped Liara feel better. But she had been all the more shaken by the incident only a half-hour previously, and the words proved cold comfort, at best.

“I...” Liara stammered, now increasingly-unintelligible as she tried to form words between sniffles and heaving sobs, “I can't live without her, Garrus. I just can't.”

“You won't have to, Liara. I'd bet credits on it.”

Liara merely turned to her side again, looking distinctly unconvinced. After a long period of absolute silence, Liara finally spoke, in a quiet and hopeless voice, “I need to go check on Shepard.”

Garrus thought about stopping her, but decided she couldn't be persuaded.

* * *

 

Once again, Liara found herself in the hospital room, staring intently at the dormant person of Commander Shepard. More than once, she thought of trying to bring her back in the same way as she had attempted before; however, this thought was always shoved out of her mind, out of fear that, next time, she'd say an even worse thing, and Shepard would be lost forever.

It was torture for Liara. Here Shepard was, right in front of her, teasing her with her unconscious presence, and Liara couldn't do anything to help. She couldn't embrace her, kiss her all over, or tell her everything had turned out alright. Worst of all, Liara couldn't welcome Shepard into their new life. That was what hurt the most.

She refused to give up hope, but she felt that, with every passing hour – each one flying by like mere seconds – there was less and less hope to hold onto. She remained petrified of causing more harm to Shepard, but she couldn't stand to leave her on the cold, uninviting hospital bed alone.

So there she sat, with no tears left in her body to cry. Waiting.

She thought about the many great memories which Shepard and she had shared. When Shepard had saved her from imprisonment on Therum. When Shepard had helped her save Feron and exact revenge on the previous Shadow Broker. When the two had shared their first night together on the original Normandy SR-1. Everything felt so dangerous back then, like every night could very well have been their last.

But the more she thought about that, the more she realized that this one could yet truly turn out to be their very last together. And there was nothing Liara could do about it.

She began to loathe herself more and more with every new thought. Shepard had saved her life more times than she could count, and had enriched it more than any other person before or since. And yet, now when Shepard needed _her_ help, there was nothing she could do to assist. She was entirely powerless, and this inescapable fact gripped her in a cold undertow. Even worse was the fact that, when she had tried, she had botched the attempt for reasons she still was largely unaware of, and had brought the commander back to square one in her recovery just as soon as she had almost regained consciousness.

Liara, the more she thought, began to feel less powerless, and more altogether _useless_.

The asari switched her gaze for a few seconds to the side-table in the room, suddenly noticing the three bouquets of flowers which adorned it. One was composed of ornate yellow blossoms – as far as she recalled, they were a human-grown variety known as “daffodils” – and they seemed so unceasingly bright as to even make Liara grin for a split-second. The next was another human-grown variety, this time a bright, wine-red colour that proved a stark contrast to the daffodil arrangement. These ones, Liara was quite familiar with – roses. Shepard had mentioned these to her as being emblematic of romance in human culture; she couldn't help but realize how apropos their presence was in this situation. But it was the third variety, yet again human-grown, which struck her the most. The only one standing by itself, this was again a rose; Liara could clearly tell this from the physical characteristics of its blossom. But it was a strikingly different colour, and Liara instantly found it to be arresting.

The blue rose placed conspicuously on the side-table captivated Liara for multiple reasons. Its deep, oceanic hue, made all the more complex and ineffable by the ripples of the flower's petals, was as melancholy as it was beautiful. The rose, in its beauty and its lonesomeness, seemed to tell a story, like the mystery of romance, and the mournful devastation arising from the loss thereof. It seemed to tell _her_ story.

Liara then looked down at her own hand, and found yet another set of commonalities. The similarity of colour was immediately obvious; yet, as Liara looked back at the flower, she realized something else. The blue blossom was fragile, almost silken in its construction. It looked as if it would break into a million pieces, or wilt into a stunted reflection of its former self, as soon as it was touched. Yet it was kept upright by a strong, hardy stem, rife with thorns to ward off all potential aggressors, and also gentle and willing to help the blossom flourish. It told _their_ story.

Liara, with great hesitation, stood up and looked back at Shepard, still unconscious as ever. It was at this time that she noticed how closely the bed, with its confining rails and its sterile, ascetic appearance, resembled a coffin. How similar the three floral gifts looked to those which one would expect to see placed at a memorial or gravestone. These revelations troubled Liara greatly, but she simply gazed down at Shepard still, a deceptively emotionless look on her face – sullen, but not characteristic of any one emotion. She was beginning to have trouble feeling anything.

She walked up to the hospital bedside, and knelt beside her love, speaking so quietly as to almost be whispering: “I need you to recover.”

With one, singular tear welling in her left eye and trickling down, overflowing from her tear duct as if to compensate for her increasingly-muddled emotions, Liara continued:

“Because I can't _make_ it on my own.”

 

* * *

 

Garrus had finally convinced Liara to leave the hospital room for the night, but she would have been lying if she were to assert she had actually gotten any sleep. The depression Liara was currently undergoing was quite curious: it tired her out immensely, placing an enormous strain on not only her psychology, but her physical well-being. However, it also kept her awake, unable to sleep while the fate of her life's greatest love was so deeply uncertain. The fatigue was beginning to chip away at her, and she couldn't stop it from accumulating. In a way, Liara didn't _want_ to; she felt that, compared to the extent of Shepard's injuries, she herself had suffered far less, and it felt wrong to deny the resulting guilt.

It therefore continued to hollow her out, obscuring any hint of positive emotion with its pitch-black cloud of fear and anxiety.

By the time Liara made her way back to the hospital, she looked worse than she ever had before. Her eyes had become even more bloodshot than they were before, and her skin had become noticeably paler. In all honesty, this had been happening for awhile, what with the stress of the war and its fallout; but it was somehow much more apparent now that there had been a full night between her appearances.

In absolute silence, Liara walked past various hospital rooms and their attendants; the physicians at the establishment had seen her so frequently lately as to barely even notice she wasn't part of the staff. She was momentarily stunned out of her emotionless footfall, however, when she noticed that there were a handful of professionals talking right outside the door to Shepard's room.

“What's the matter? Is everything alright?” Liara asked, genuinely worried.

The two physicians looked at eachother with uncertainty, and then the male one of them, brown-haired, replied, “We're going to need to take Commander Shepard off of life support, ma'am.”

Liara gawked for several seconds, at first unable to take the information in. Her eyes grew wide, and she replied angrily, “ _What?_ ”

“She's been taking up valuable resources that we need for the other injured,” the female physician, a blonde, informed. “We can't afford to keep her going if she's not going to wake up.”

Liara donned an outraged, cataclysmic expression, and her anger merely intensified.

“She _will_ wake up! Don't you know who it is you're talking about? Goddess, she just saved all of your lives! You can't do this to her!”

Defensively, the male physician rebuked, “Don't _you_ know who this is we're talking about?”

Liara shot back, scowling, “Of _course_ I do! We're in _love!_ ”

“Then you'll realize that she wouldn't want her own well-being to be a burden on others' recoveries!” The female physician countered.

“And how would either of _you_ know what she wants? You don't know her! You don't know what it's like to be around her!” Liara's tears returned as she continued, “You don't know how it feels to survive so much, only to have her robbed from you after doing something for the good of the galaxy! _It's not fair!_ ”

Sensing Liara's distress, the male physician simply concluded, in a resigned tone, “I'm sorry. But it needs to be done.”

The two doctors turned and headed into the hospital room, but not before Liara could squeeze in behind them.

“I'm not going to let you do this!” Liara warned, preparing a last-ditch measure in the form of an increasingly-large biotic orb in her right hand.

“You don't have a choice, ma'am,” the male physician continued, his associate reaching for the decisive plug in the wall.

“ _I beg to differ._ ”

With unchallengeable anger, Liara launched the projectile, dispersing it into a wave which knocked the female physician against the nearby wall. Shocked, and reeling from his colleague's unconsciousness, the male physician exclaimed, “Are you _crazy?_ What have you –”

Both persons were distracted, suddenly and into total silence, as the rustling that Liara had heard earlier came back. Shepard began to stir, and a single, groggy grunt could be heard. Liara snapped a hand to her mouth, grinning ecstatically...

Liara's eyes snapped open, and she realized she was still in the provisional room near the hospital she had been assigned to after Garrus had persuaded her to leave Shepard for the night. It seemed she _had_ managed to get some sleep, after all.

 

* * *

 

Still unconscious, Shepard was all alone in the rubble of the Crucible again. Countless shards of unknown metals broke through her armour and tortured her skin, simultaneously lacerating and cotterizing it. A cavalcade of rock and gravel from the ground around the impact site had torn at her flesh in several places, ripping through her body armour like it was peanut brittle. One particularly nasty glob of stone had just about collapsed the right side of her chest, breaking almost every rib and most-likely destroying that lung.

Her body had just about shut down from the shock, yet even in this horrible state of disrepair, Commander Shepard stayed conscious, trying to keep her wits about her as best she could.

With every weak heartbeat the unravaged area of her chest cavity produced, Shepard felt her entire body pulse with agony. As many times as she had been close to death before, she felt certain now that her time had come. Even if that turned out to be the case, however, she'd be damned if she stopped fighting back.

After the fateful choice she had been left to make, she couldn't waste her chance to see everyone again. She was sure that there was already someone looking for her – being a three-time saviour of the galaxy had its perks, after all – but she wasn't sure for how much longer she could hold on.

Dangling indecisively on the precipice of life and death didn't allow one to keep steady track of time, and so Shepard was entirely unsure of how long it had been before she'd received Liara's signal. But when she did, she was overwhelmed by its vividness. As fleeting and momentary as it had been, she was certain of whom she had seen in that single second. The sensation, as well, was unmistakeable: it wasn't just a memory – it was their connection to eachother at work.

Suddenly, Shepard felt far more able to fight. The wounded commander still was completely unable to move, so total was her entombment, but she didn't care. Now that she knew that Liara had contacted her, Shepard knew as well it would only be a matter of time before someone dug her out of this hellhole.

But being trapped to the point of total immobility also allowed one the time to think about the ramifications of one's choices. It was inevitable, for example, that Shepard would need to retire from the Alliance. Even _her_ body could only take so much punishment before it finally stopped working like it used to. That wasn't a big deal, though – she had already planned on doing so after firing the Crucible. What concerned Shepard more was the fact that she had singlehandedly exterminated an entire race of people – ones she had fought her hardest to protect and save – as well as a very dear friend. Not only that, but the death of the latter was likely to alienate Joker permanently from ever making contact with her. Even if it didn't, how would the commander be able to face her ace pilot? She'd still have Liara, but Joker would have no one. That wasn't fair.

The more Shepard thought about this fact, and the more she dwelled on her own present physical condition, the more she wondered if she had done the right thing. If she was going to die down here anyway, then what had been the point in denying Joker happiness? In refusing the Geth's plight for equality and sentience? In stopping the galaxy from becoming unified in both thought and biology? These thoughts tore away at her fortitude, and ensured that she was in horrible and perpetual pain both physically _and_ psychologically.

She kept trying to hold on, but as the hours passed, Shepard became less and less able to maintain consciousness. Her breath, as well, was becoming shallower – most likely due both to the lack of oxygen in such a cramped space, and to her collapsed lung.

Needless to say, she was ecstatic to hear faint voices from above her rocky prison after awhile longer. It was at this time that Shepard noticed the fingers of her right hand were just barely flexible. She deduced that they were probably outside the rubble, and therefore put all her remaining energy into flexing them, in the hopes that they would be a noticeable-enough signal.

Only a few more moments passed before she heard the rubble being displaced above her. Silent tears ran down the commander's cheeks as she sighed, smiling a relieved smile.

 

* * *

 

Liara returned to the hospital as soon as she was able. Yet today, she felt perhaps even more miserable than she had throughout her previous visits here – and a lot of it had to do with her unfortunate dream.

As she looked around her, she could see the devastation the last battle for Earth had wrought. Everywhere, wounded – often maimed – soldiers lined every available portion of the improvised infirmary. But while the staff were clearly being pushed to their limits, the once-frantic influx of damaged bodies and minds had screeched to a halt. Ordinarily, Liara might have felt a hint of relief at this fact, but her beleaguered psyche informed her that the phenomenon was anything but reassuring – it simply meant that everyone else was either missing-in-action or downright dead.

Despite the fact that the war had been won, the ambience of the hospital was far from victorious or jovial. Everywhere, the piercing, bare-bones glare of fluorescent lighting loomed over the scene, as if scrutinizing the personnel thereof without satisfaction. The constant moaning of recovering (or dying) patients, and the perpetual soft shuffle of sleep-deprived footsteps created a torturous fugue complemented by the occasional sforzandi of electrocardiograms and other medical devices. Even worse yet were the sporadic and always-unexpected cries of friends and family members of the newly-deceased. All this, and yet no ending cadence in sight.

Had Liara not been so focused – perhaps selfishly, she thought for a moment every now and then – on Shepard's well-being, she might have found the atmosphere altogether unbearable. But, as loath as she was to admit it, she had essentially become totally numb to the downward momentum of the surrounding cacophony.

Faced with the increasing possibility of her lover's untimely demise, the asari Shadow Broker had begun to ponder that age-old conundrum of her people. Even supposing that Shepard recovered from her disastrous injuries, could Liara stand this kind of draining, soul-muting pain again when Shepard inevitably died of – by human standards – old age?

What was the point of the asari lifespan, renowned for its legendary longevity, if it would only bear witness to the eventual demise of everything and everyone a person adored? As much as she could not imagine her life without Shepard by her side or in her arms, Liara reasoned that things might well be even worse if she were to be robbed of even the most-fleeting chance of the commander's recovery.

Garrus had stopped by again earlier, as had Tali. It was obvious by now that they were, as humans sometimes said, an item. Rather than feeling bitter, Liara had instead felt grateful and relieved that they had eachother. But this ordeal with Shepard was only reminding Liara of the fragility of life, and, while she refused to resent the couple over their happiness and survival, she couldn't help but feel that these things only reminded her of everything she stood to lose if things went wrong. As much as she knew they were trying to help her by being there, she couldn't help but feel their presence was merely a harsh reminder of her current situation.

Delving further into the nature of her scenario, Liara began to wonder if the comparatively-short lifetimes of other species (save, perhaps, the Krogan) factored into the motivations behind so-called “pureblood” relationships. Were such bondings so simple as to be based merely in mutual physical, or even emotional, attraction? Or was there something more to it? Were such persons more-acutely aware of the inevitable devastation they would go through upon becoming attached to a non-asari partner, only to have to experience their death however it came?

The more Liara thought about it, the more she began to see a morbid logic behind such an approach. But it didn't matter. The fact was that Liara had fallen in love with a human, and she had long-since come to grips with the ramifications of such a romance.

Or at least, she thought she had.

She reasoned that all asari who loved persons of other species had to go through something like this at some point, but that didn't make her feel any better. Not only was it impossible for her to relate to others when she was in such a state of emotional disrepair, but Liara also couldn't help but think, however selfishly and irrationally, that her relationship with Shepard was _exceptional_.

Many asari – most, in fact, by all reliable accounts – fell in love with individuals not of their own species. But then again, most asari didn't fall in love with three-time saviours of the galaxy. With such a legacy as Commander Shepard's came an enormous amount of stress for Liara, though she tried always not to show her exasperation. Secretly, however, she had always jumped at the chance to go into action alongside her lover. It was a chance to keep her safe, and make sure they could remain together for as long as possible.

Shepard, of course, had always made Liara feel safe. The befreckled asari recalled vividly the unmistakeable caress of the commander's hand on her skin: she remembered being initially amazed by how gentle it felt, despite the calloused contours thereof. That sensation, that wonderful feeling, captivated Liara from then on, and it told her everything she needed to know. It exuded care, caution not to disrespect, protection, and, perhaps most-importantly of all, the idea that Shepard felt Liara to be special, unique – worth loving and keeping in her life. It was strange for Liara, in retrospect, to have her few remaining doubts be quashed by means of physical sensation. It was strange by anyone's standards, she was sure. But again, this seemed proof to her that their relationship was anything but normal.

Now sitting beside Shepard's hospital bed, as she had been for the past several minutes, Liara rose to her feet and leaned slightly over the utilitarian furnishing. She didn't expect anything to happen at this point – why would it now, of all times? – but she figured she should at least try to give Shepard just as wonderful a feeling of safety as the commander had given to her. She looked anxiously at the various monitors analyzing her lover for signs of danger – after what happened last time, she was still understandably worried – but luckily, there were none. With a weak, uncertain smile and a melancholy brow, Liara reached out and stroked Shepard's left hand with her own, softly and warmly, just as the commander did so very often to her.

After some time, the asari's hint of a smile soon fell away back into the increasingly-familiar frown that now came as second nature to her, and she closed her eyes in frustration and sadness at the ineffectiveness of her attempt. She stopped stroking Shepard's hand, but didn't retract her own, instead resting it hopefully thereupon.

Liara's eyes clenched shut tighter as she fought back another wave of tears, and that familiar emptiness of being slowly came back to her once more.

But just as she was starting to lift her hand, Liara felt a tiny twitch underneath it. She snapped her attention back to Shepard, and with awe and ecstasy, witnessed the impossible.

 

* * *

 

Shepard had been successfully retrieved from the ruins of the Crucible, albeit with numerous life-threatening wounds. Though the commander was famous for her tenacity and endurance, the various experts at the nearby makeshift hospice had a great deal of reservation regarding her prognosis. Some reasoned that Shepard would never regain consciousness, remaining in a vegetative state. This evaluation, however, proved entirely false, as, within merely a few days, the commander had awoken from her comatose state.

Nevertheless, Shepard was decidedly not without lasting damage. She was still quite weak from her ordeal, being confined to a wheelchair for the time being, for this and a handful of other reasons. Her confinement, however, was temporary – the most-noticeable permanent effect being that she would likely have a noticeable limp after her right leg finished healing. Her lung capacity, as well, was likely never going to be the same without a transplant; as she had suspected, her right lung had collapsed. It was essentially a foregone conclusion that she would need to retire from active service in the Alliance Navy, but, as she had iterated whilst underneath the rubble, this was something she was looking forward to. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep herself completely out of the loop, but a vacation was just what she needed after this.

After all, her stress levels _were_ at their highest since the Skyllian Blitz.

It had only been a few minutes before Garrus and Tali had heard of Shepard's awakening, and only a few minutes more until they'd practically bashed the door down congratulating her. Much of the remainder of the crew of the Normandy SR-2 had arrived soon thereafter. Initially, Shepard enjoyed her first few hours without the bleak shadow of the war towering over her, laughing for the first time in far too long. But it was only a short while before she realized something.

Liara wasn't with her.

No matter who she asked, Shepard's squadmates were uncharacteristically unhelpful – even evasive – regarding the whereabouts of the commander's beloved. This, of course, terrified her. Why would her friends, usually so sharp and attentive (not to mention protective of their fellow crewmates), seek now only to obfuscate the truth about Liara? Immediately, Shepard worried that something had somehow happened to her after the commander had begun her push to the Conduit. She concluded in time, however, that this was impossible, for two reasons: firstly, if the Normandy had at all been damaged sufficiently to harm Liara, everyone else on board would have suffered as well; and secondly, this explanation would not suffice regarding the apathetic edge her squad currently projected regarding the issue.

It seemed, even more alarmingly, that with each attempt to finally press the truth out of Garrus, Tali, Vega, or any of the others, they became more- and more-openly hostile. “Don't worry about it, Shepard,” became, “Don't know, don't care.” “What are you talking about?” became, “Why do you keep bothering me about this?” and, most distressingly, “You need to relax, Shepard,” became, “Shepard, you need to forget about her.”

The commander became more and more frustrated with the crew of her ship the longer she tried to get answers from them, but her anger was essentially useless. Upon realizing in her eventual exhaustion – she had temporarily forgotten the extent of her injuries in her mounting fury – that Liara had simply vanished for some reason, she retired back to her hospital bed, totally bereft of anything but fear and sadness.

 _Where are you, Liara?_ Shepard thought to herself, reclining on the bed with a deeply-furrowed brow and lips, and her right hand running through her hair.

She closed her eyes and, as she did, remembered when she had bonded with Liara shortly before the close of the London deployment. The feeling had been at once awe-inspiring, ecstatic, and overwhelming. In the space of only a few seconds, she felt she had become closer to Liara than she had in the past three years they had been together. But it was a different kind of closeness, she felt. It was difficult for Shepard to put her finger on exactly, but the feeling was one less of simply knowing Liara, and more one of being totally united with her. The feeling that an unlanceable thread of trust, comprehension, and total empathy had been sewn into both of their minds, uniting the couple at the neurological level.

The more she reflected on the bond – now that she had time to do so – the more she was profoundly shaken by its implications. She was not worried about the phenomenon, but rather, amazed at its sheer thoroughness, affecting every last layer of her mind. She felt truly in tune with Liara, in a way human language simply didn't have good-enough words to accurately describe. (Somehow, the commander imagined even asari languages didn't have truly-encapsulating words for it – it was simply something that needed to be experienced firsthand.) Every thought that entered her mind, she knew, was resonating somewhere in Liara's. Every emotion, felt in kind. It was a transcendent bliss, one which at once signalled protection, love, and perpetual unity of the very purest kind.

In many ways, Shepard began to feel pity for those couples who couldn't experience asari bonding. She knew it was condescending, but she couldn't help it. The commander even now felt herself be slowly changed by her continued meditations on the subject; such a mind-bogglingly innate union of two individuals was altogether unheard-of in human literature and culture. But rather than focusing on this sorrow, she instead chose to revel in the wondrous blessing she had in her experience of this phenomenon.

 _Maybe this is how it feels for the asari,_ she contemplated. _Maybe this is how they make it through when everyone they love dies around them._

The implications were unfathomable, and even Shepard herself was surprised she was getting this philosophical. But as she thought about this, too, she wondered if Liara's own intellect was perhaps rubbing off on her somehow through the bond.

 _Or maybe I just have time to think now_ , thought the commander.

That's when she realized she could still try to find her asari bondmate.

If Shepard and Liara were truly bonded, they could sense eachother. It was a stretch to say they could contact eachother directly through this intertwining – it was a mind-bond, not an extranet connection – but, if nothing else, she could at least make sure she was alright.

She focused her mind on this one aim, seeking to somehow tap into the bond, but her abilities with this endeavour were, understandably, rather amateur. This was, she reminded herself, an asari adaptation first, and therefore was intrinsically foreign to human processes.

She tried, and tried again, until she finally felt too drained to continue. She let her hands fall flat to her sides, and realized she had broken a sweat. Again, she wondered if this was similar to the strain biotics left on their asari practitioners' minds (or those of other races, for that matter). But her signature tenacity won out after a handful of belaboured sighs, and with a tense jaw and intense willpower, she tried again.

This time, she struggled even harder, and let no other thoughts intrude into her focus – including futility. After what must have been several minutes (she had disregarded time, as well), she finally caught an instant of clarity.

For less than a second (Was it? She could hardly tell), a feeling, an intangible thought that the commander nonetheless knew was not her own, zipped through her brain and back out again. So fast was the message that Shepard was unable to distinguish precisely what it meant. But intuitively, she knew it had to be Liara's. Something about its... _shape_ told her as much. There was just something, something abstract, which instantly told her she was on the right track.

She tried again. And again.

At first, her attempts were marked by hit-or-miss success, never gaining something equal to her breakthrough some time earlier. But as she persevered, she began to realize better and better what to do, and finally, after several attempts, she managed to keep that blip steady for long enough to figure out the emotion it was carrying.

 _Fear,_ Shepard thought to herself. _Liara's afraid. She needs me._

Shepard imagined Liara in her mind's eye – whether this was actually the asari in her present state, or Shepard's mind playing tricks on itself, she didn't care – and slowly pieced the image together.

At first, it was fragmentary – bits and pieces flying around, unfocused. Shepard realized that this lack of focus had the potential to snap her out of her current breakthrough, and she disciplined herself to keep steady.

Then, Liara's face came into being – sullen, with a hopeless demeanour about it.

_But what's the matter? What's going on?_

This thought, as if compelling the image to come further into focus for some reason, assembled the rest of her body. She was sitting on something.

_But what? Where is she right now? She needs me!_

Now completely lost in the realm of her mind's eye, Shepard was able to picture perfectly the sterile-looking hospital room Liara found herself in. It took a second for the commander to realize what she was seeing.

_Wait... that's –!_

Before she could finish this one last mental sentence, the commander felt, vividly and physically, something heavy resting on her left hand.

It was familiar, _so_ familiar, but Shepard struggled to place it.

Then a finger twitched, and it all made sense.

It was Liara's hand.

 

* * *

 

With a titanic gasp of air and a sudden bolting upwards, Commander Shepard broke through her coma and back into reality. The familiar smells of the hospital entered her nose still, but Shepard could already tell things were different. The commander's tremendous relief came all at once, as she realized, with the last of her insight from a few minutes ago waning, that Liara was no longer afraid. Rather, she was ecstatic.

Liara, too, had gasped, surely made breathless by the improbable transpiration which had just unfolded before her eyes. Without thinking, she latched on to Shepard in a massive hug, kissing her face all over. This was only interrupted by Shepard's sudden yelp of pain; evidently, Liara had squished the commander's ribs a bit too hard.

“Shepard!” Liara exclaimed, her voice wobbly from sudden relief, “Goddess, you made it! You're here! You're alright!”

Liara hugged Shepard again with delight, making sure to target her shoulders instead this time. A massive smile was drawn across her face, but within seconds, she released her embrace and headed for the hospital room door.

Initially, Shepard was worried, but her fears dissolved as soon as Liara shouted out for Garrus and Tali.

“She's awake! She's awake!” Liara called, almost hysterical and apparently forgetting she was in a hospital. “It's incredible!”

Shepard was now conscious enough to realize her lover's face was flooding with tears, and she realized that this was the reason Liara was so worried.

A warm feeling suddenly overtook her, as more thoughts began to take shape.

This was finally over. They had won. She was here, and so was Liara. So were her friends on the Normandy. They had made it out of the nightmare somehow, and, with any luck, Shepard could live off the royalties from the inevitable vids.

There were many concerns Shepard still had. The Council would doubtless be thankful to the Normandy crew, but Shepard's decision to get rid of synthetic life in exchange for the guaranteed extinction of the Reapers was something she knew she'd have to answer for.

There was rebuilding ahead, too. The Reapers had taken an immense toll on the galaxy, both physically and infrastructurally. There were enormous reparations to be made, and Shepard somehow knew the Normandy would get dragged into things somehow – even if Shepard herself chose to (and quite-likely had to) retire.

But she chose not to think about that right now. For now, the commander smiled. She smiled, and she realized that, for the moment at least, everything was alright. She looked around the room at the faces smiling at her, but focused on the blue one.

Trying to get to her feet while disguising her pain as best she could, she reached for one of the crutches an attendant had hitherto been kind enough to leave by her bedside. After some effort, she made it, and held a hand out for Liara to fall into.

The lovers came in close, their bodies enriching eachother with joy and warmth. They both cried, emotions swelling within them, but through the tears, they laughed. Uncontrollably, they laughed, unwilling to let eachother go again.

 _This is real,_ Shepard thought. _We've done it. Finally._

As Liara and Commander Shepard continued their embrace, the blue rose on the table next to the hospital bed remained steadfast. Its stem stood just a little stronger today, its blue blossom glowing just a little brighter.

 

THE END

 


End file.
